as its mate. "I suppose not. I don't suppose I need to, think, about
you all the time either, or follow you around till that new cocker
spaniel of yours thinks I'm part of your shadow. Perhaps I don't need
to love you."

"Harry, get up! Someone will see you and think you're proposing to
me."

"Think? They ought to know I'm proposing. But, Pauline, talking about
'need,' there isn't any need of your being so pretty. Your eyes are
bigger and bluer than they really need to be. You could see just as
well if you didn't have such long, curly lashes, and there isn't any
real necessity for the way they group together in that starry effect,
like Nell Brinkley's girls. Is there any need of fifteen different
beautiful shades of light where the sun strikes your hair just back of
your ear?"

"Harry, stop this! The score is forty-fifteen."

"Yes, all these things are entirely unnecessary. I'm going to have old
Mother Nature indicted by the Grand jury for willful, wasteful, wanton
extravagance unless--unless--" Harry paused.

"Now, Harry, don't use up your whole vocabulary--promise what?"

"Promise to marry me at once."

"No, Harry, I can't do that--that is, right away. I must have time."

"Why time? Pauline, don't you love me?"